Chains of Guilt
by Captain Cheese
Summary: One year after the war's over, Draco is released from house arrest and plans to rid himself of guilt by dedicating himself to becoming an auror. At the same time, Hermione finds herself unwilling to remain on at the ministry, and takes a new job for a wizard/muggle business as the bridge between each community. Little does she know that that business is Malfoy Industries.
1. Chapter 1

Note: This story will have adult content in the form of harsh language and sexual scenes. If this does not sit well with you, please hit the back button :)

Chapter One

Draco stared down at Hermione, her mouth open in an endless scream. Each foul letter of the word ' _mudblood_ ' etched viciously into her skin by his deranged aunt. Briefly, their eyes connected. Hermione's filled with desperate pleading for relief.

Frozen in place by the horror anyway, his mother needlessly clutched his arm to keep him from moving to help her. The events unfolded in flickers like they were on fast forward. Weasel running to Hermione, swollen faced Potter helping him lift her, an oddly familiar house elf transporting the trio away - but not before Potter threw him a single scathing look portraying nothing but sheer rage.

The Dark Lord's Crucio, so painful. So raged full. His red eyes.

Draco woke up thrashing, tangled in his bed sheets. He took deep gasping breaths to steady his heart. "It's over, it's over," he whispered to himself. But no matter how much he repeated those words, one dominant lingering feeling remained that filled the start of his every day with nausea.

Guilt.

"Tilly!" he gasped.

There was a loud crack and his house elf appeared, ringing her hands together anxiously. "Master called?" she squeaked.

"Water. Please," he added on as an afterthought.

"Tilly is pleased to serve Master Draco." She snapped her spindly fingers and a glass of cool water appeared.

Draco gulped it down, grateful that it eased the last of his nightmares away. He looked down to see Tilly still standing at the side of his bed. He sighed. "What?"

Her ears perked up. "Tilly has made Master a special breakfast."

Special? "Why?" he asked.

"Tilly is thinking Master be happy to go out now." She fluttered her ears nervously.

"You know I can't leave," he snapped.

"Master, ministry owl come with this." She handed a letter to him, sealed in red wax with the ministry stamp. His fingers shook as he opened it, too nervous to dare hope Tilly was right. Just before the flap popped free, a large barn owl swooped through his window and dropped the daily prophet onto his lap. The headline on the cover flashed boldly to capture his attention.

" **Boy-Who-Lived Saves Again. Malfoy Heir Freed."**

Draco snapped up the paper, scoffing at the picture of Potter and Granger ducking their heads to avoid the media - as if they could fool him into believing they didn't love every second of the attention.

Unfolding the paper, he started to read:

' _Boy -now man- saviour of the wizarding world, Harry Potter, and his faithful sidekick, Hermione Granger, made a startling appearance before the Wizengamot yesterday afternoon to reopen the Malfoy case._

 _Heir of House Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, whom currently lives wandless and under house arrest, and his mother Narcissa - who has been residing in low security Azkaban - will be released this morning and returned their wands. Furthermore, Draco will be given his inheritance and offered the Malfoy chair - on probation - decreed the esteemed members of Wizengamot._

 _All this comes at the efforts of Mr Potter and Miss Granger as they defended the actions of the two during the war that ended a little over a year ago._

 _(For a recap of our anniversary edition turn to page 17.)_

 _The youngest senior auror in a decade, Mr Potter has found he has even more sway amongst the ministry than ever, but in is too much?_

 _This reporter wonders if the Malfoy's are rehabilitated from their old prejudices and if they should be allowed into society again._

 _Evidence to support this theory comes from the lack of the third golden trio member, not willing to support the Malfoy's case._

 _While unavailable for comment, rumour has it Ron Weasley has split with his now Ex - girlfriend Hermione Granger over this very issue._

 _(Who is drawing this eligible bachelor's eyes now? P.4)_

 _But what of Malfoy senior? Thankfully, as a member of he-who-must-not-be-named's inner circle, Lucius Malfoy remains in high security imprisonment for life, enabling his son to become the new head of House Malfoy._

 _Will Draco Malfoy flow in the steps of his evil father? Who is this bad boy dating? Where will he make his first public appearance?_

 _This reporter promises these answers and more in issues to come._

 _Welcome back to the wizarding community Draco Malfoy. May you endeavour to deserve it.'_

Sneering at the bias of the reporter - the nerve of Potter escaping him again - and the fact that he'd had no warning of his impending freedom, Draco buffed the paper aside with the disgust it deserved and tore open the ministry letter. As expected, the page detailed his freedom on a three month probation with a chance of all charges dropped at the end. It mentioned that his wand would be returned when his mother was escorted back to the property.

Speaking of… "Tilly, please make sure mother's rooms are ready for her." Draco watched the little elf shift nervously. "What now?"

"Mistress is already home."

Draco paled and flung his covers off, not caring about his nudity in front of the elf who raised him, especially in the face of this latest development. With all the haste of someone who wasn't a morning person could muster, Draco picked out a robe his mother would deem appropriate, slicked his hair back, and strode down to her favourite sitting room where Tilly had set up celebration breakfast. He got there first and took the time to compose himself, gulping back a black coffee before pouring another. The opening of the door announced his mother's presence. Draco took a second and turned to give her his brightest smile, in spite knowing she would see right through it. It was the appearance of composure that counted in pureblood circles after all, not how genuine it was.

"Mother," he walked forward, kissing her lightly on each cheek and leading her to the more comfortable chair. "Welcome home. You look well." Draco made her a tea.

Narcissa Malfoy raised a delicate eyebrow at her son. "Thank you, Draco. It helps that Potter's people removed Azkaban of Dementors."

Draco scowled. One more blasted thing Potter had done for his family.

Narcissa shifted slightly to get his attention. "You're not still obsessed with Potter are you dear?" she asked mildly. "You're a grown man, people will start to wonder."

"I am not obsessed," Draco snarled.

Her eyes flashed dangerously and Draco Immediately dropped his gaze. "Forgive me, mother, this morning has been a flurry of activity compared to the past year."

He motioned for her to help herself to the the array of breakfast foods Tilly had prepared, then loaded his own plate with strawberries, a treat compared to his normal coffee and dry toast. "But I have naught to complain of compared to your trials. How are you?"

Narcissa took took a slow sip of tea before answering, giving Draco time to study her. As far as prisoners went, Narcissa had had it easy. She'd been in a comfortable cell, with a plump mattress, proper bathroom, and plenty of books to read. Draco had been allowed an escorted visit to her once once a month, his only exception to house arrest. While living with the Dark Lord under their roof, Narcissa had aged from frequent torture and the stress of watching her son endure the same. Her time in Azkaban, Draco decided sourly, had revitalised her, giving her much needed rest and peace.

She sat before him straight, proud, and terrifyingly beautiful as ever. He couldn't help but wince at the stark contrast that Narcissa was to Lucius when Draco had last seen his father. While Draco had been a child in an unwinnable situation, and Narcissa had redeemed herself by lying about Potter's death, Lucius had no excuses that would reduce his sentence.

With Dementors gone the ministry had thought to use ancient muggle punishments for the Dark Lord's inner circle in maximum security. Lucius spent the majority of his time strung up in anti-magic chains, dirty and covered in wounds from whips and beatings. Potions, given when he was at the absolute edge, was all that kept him from dying to infection and blood loss.

Draco had been to see him once, seen with a cold realisation the still conscious look of Lucius' eyes boring into his and knew he could do nothing about it. He hadn't been back since. Again guilt flooded his system. Even if he could help his father, he didn't want to. Maybe it made him disloyal, it definitely made him a bad son, however the last year of house arrest was ironically the closest thing he had to freedom in years.

He suddenly realised he hadn't been paying attention to his mother.

"... once my probation is over. I intend to visit Paris for a year, then move on to our villa in Barcelona. In the meantime we need to update our wardrobes Draco. Those robes are positively awful, at least two seasons old. I've asked Raphael to come by this afternoon and start..."

Draco tuned her out again. So his mother intended to move on and forget the whole thing ever happened. To leave him. To leave Lucius. He couldn't say he blamed her. Unfortunately he couldn't just forget the war, even if he wanted to. He still had his owns chains to sever.

"Mother," he said. "Where is my wand?"

Her eyes brightened and she raised her own wand. "Accio Draco's wand."

Nothing happened for a minute, then his old vine wood wand came flying through the door and into his mother's palm. He rolled his eyes at her pleasure over the innocent magic, and took his wand back with mixed feelings. He wanted it to feel like coming home when he held it. Like it was an extension of him, thrumming with pleasurable familiarity. To an extent it was, but there was also a wrongness, a taint. Even though Potter had given the wand back, Draco could feel the alignment still wasn't quite his. He sighed.

"I won't be here for robe fittings this afternoon, Mother. Now that my house arrest has been lifted, I have have a number of errands that need seeing to."

Narcissa smiled at her son. "Dinner's at seven."

He nodded, surprised that she was letting him go so easily. He left before she could change her mind. Draco wandered slowly through the manors great halls, ignoring the stares of his ancestors portraits, finally making his way to his father's old study.

An elderly house elf sat in the lush office chair which was set at the tallest setting, giving the creature just enough height height to use the mahogany desk.

The elf blinked this large eyes slowly at Draco and motioned for the youngest Malfoy to take a seat across from him.

"How goes business, Wilkens?" Draco asked tiredly.

"Business goes well, young master," the elf rumbled in his gravelly voice. "Profits have risen to 13% this month."

"Good, that's good."

It was was a pointless response. Draco couldn't really find it in himself to care about his father's business much most days.

"Does the young master wish to take his place at the head of the business now?"

Draco shook his head. He He was happy to stay 'young' master master as far as this was concerned.

"You do the job well enough Wilkens," he said. "If you need help just hire someone."

"Very well, young master. Does young master require the employee to be one of pureblood?"

Draco thought about it for a minute. The biggest shock, after his reduced sentence, had even when he finally decided to check the Malfoy Enterprises finances, sure that due to their tainted postwar reputation that they would be near bankruptcy.

Except that Lucius Malfoy, loyal Death Eater and muggle murderer, only did business exclusively in the muggle world. And thanks to well trained house elves and a few squib business employees, Malfoy Enterprises was flourishing, and Draco hardened his heart a degree further against his hypocritical father.

"Hire a mudb-" he gulped. "Hire a muggleborn... someone trustworthy."

At least then he might have someone to learn about muggles from and maybe if he did get involved eventually, he then wouldn't screw up the income that would be supporting his mother's overseas trip. Enough of her tone indicated to him that it could very well be permanent, and he knew how much Europe and Narcissa together equaled near constant shopping.

"Very well, young master," Wilkens agreed.

Draco wished the elf a good day then made his way back to his quarters to dress in a more casual robe, something that was easy to move quick in. He finished the outfit with a hooded green cloak, pulling it around himself to hide his trademarked Malfoy hair.

Not wanting to risk apparition without fully aligned wand, Draco took a satchel from beside his fireplace and sprinkled a pinch of green floo powder into the fire.

"Borgin and Burkes," he said, and let them flames spin him away.

It turned out Borgin and Burkes was a good choice of gateway into Diagon Alley, even with Borgin giving him a nasty glare. Draco refused to take credit for getting most of the store's merchandise raided by the ministry after the war. He might have brought the ministry calling with the vanishing cabinet debacle, but it was Borgin who had chosen to stock his store with dark artifacts. When Draco exited Knockturn he could see that the Leaky Cauldron's brick gateway was blocked with lines of people coming in and out of the alley.

Draco realised it was the day before start of Hogwarts term, and many families were shopping last minute. He never would have made it through the pub unrecognised.

Although now that he thought about it, students shopping presented a new potential problem if he wanted to remain unseen and run his errand.

He could wait another day, he supposed, but Draco didn't know if he could bare it. A year was a year too long.

Keeping his hood up, Draco kept to the shadows and stared through the window of the store. Children entered and exited all morning long as the sun travelled across the sky. There was a level of anxiousness and excitement that mirrored his own, although if anyone spotted him, all they would have seen was longing.

Finally at the hottest part of the day, the streets cleared of shoppers, people disappearing into cafes and pubs for cool drinks and something to eat, and Draco watched the last student walk away. The small curly haired boy dragged his mum toward the ice cream parlor as Draco crossed the street.

He pushed through the heavy door, taking a moment to adjust to the dim light and musky air.

"Mr Malfoy."

Draco looked up, pulling back his hood. His eyes meet with Ollivander's and he struggled not to cringe.

"Mr Ollivander," he whispered. "If you'd like me to leave I understand."

Ollivander took his time looking at Draco, and Draco felt like the man could see everything.

The war hadn't been kind to the old man, Draco knew that better than anyone since the wandmaker had been in his dungeon. It had aged Ollivander greatly. No longer able to stand, Ollivander sat in a chair that had enchantments to move where he needed, but otherwise let his intern do the work he couldn't. Draco knew the Dark Lord and the Malfoy family had likely taken years off the old man's life.

Draco shuffled nervously under the old man's gaze. "I wanted to write," he said. "I wanted to apologize, though that fixes nothing. I'm so sorry for everything you suffered, for suffering at my hands."

Mr Ollivander regarded him, and then sighed. "Your apology came much sooner than I expected, young man. I'd always heard Malfoy's were too arrogant. But you aren't like your father, are you?"

"I endeavor not to be, sir. At least now," he said quietly.

Mr Ollivander guided his chair around the counter and looked Draco up and down, flicking out his wand to do measurements. "You have a way to go on your journey yet, but your old wand will no longer suit you. May I see it?"

Draco handed it over.

"Yes, yes," he breathed to himself. "This wand is not for you."

He turned his chair back and started searching the shelves within his reach. As if she had been summoned, and quite possibly she had, a woman a couple years older than Draco came to help him, an ex Ravenclaw he thought. Draco turned away, hoping she hadn't heard his apology.

It'd been hard to come here, and he hadn't expected Ollivander to help him. But he felt the stress leave his body at not even having to ask for a wand, let alone that he had expected to be turned away.

He needed his magic back. He couldn't change anything without his magic back, and he thanked Merlin, and Ollivander's piercing insight, for not having to go buy a subpar one from who knows where.

Assuming there was a wand here that wanted to choose him.

After thrusting twenty odd wands at Draco to try, Ollivander started to rummage through the older more obscure boxes, dusty from little handling. Samantha, the apprentice, run all over the shop, fetching what was required, and was currently reaching deep into a shelf for a long green box at the back of a stack.

Ollivander was clearly enjoying himself, and Draco was glad he could at least give the old man that. But with each failed wand, Draco felt a growing panic, thinking it would be ironic if he had to live the rest of his life wandless like the muggles he had be taught to hate.

He watched Samantha turn and look at him, wondering what she saw. A tall, pale man? A known death eater responsible for Dumbledore's early death? Someone who should be locked in Azkaban with his wretched father?

She sized him up and he let her, it was the least he could do for their help. Finally she whispered something to Ollivander and he smiled at her with genuine affection and nodded. She went at the back of the store and came back with a new box, handing it to Ollivander and then left the two men alone together.

When Mr Ollivander approached him, Draco knew immediately in the man's demeanour that this wand was precious and Draco immediately didn't want to touch it. Ollivander lifted the lid and pulled out a wand in a soft brown wood that was slightly longer than Draco's old one. He handed it to Draco without a comment and the young man felt obligated to take it into his hand.

As his fingers wrapped delicately around the hilt, he felt a warmth not dissimilar to the one he felt at eleven years old. This wand felt lighter, happier, filling him with peace that chased away his fear of the future.

Thoughts of pureblood heirs, muggle businesses, being the scum of wizarding society, and more flooded away because they weren't important. What was important was the good he could do with this wand, the wand that had chosen him to do it.

Finally looking up, Draco was shocked to see tears in the other man's eyes, and Draco realised that he was also crying. He hastily brushed his tears away.

"Young man," Mr Ollivander croaked, "you will do great things with this wand. Many great things."

The old wand maker turned away and drove his chair into the back of the shop. Samantha came out to take Draco's payment, looking at Draco with undisguised awe.

Draco clutched the wand. "What is this?" he demanded. "He didn't tell me the wood or the core."

The awe over the wand dropped quickly from her features at his rudeness. "That wand is _the_ wand to top Mr Ollivander's career and it should have gone to someone better than the likes of you," she hissed. "Get out of the shop."

Draco left, suddenly angry again. His life was utter shit and now an old man and a wand were telling him he had to do good things.

Well they could go fuck themselves, he stomped back toward Knockturn, not caring to raise his hood, ignoring the people hissing that he was death eater scum, or, as he got closer to Knockturn, a traitor.

He wasn't those things, his parents were. He was just a dumb kid who did what he was told. He wasn't evil, but he definitely wasn't good. He didn't do good things.

The more he thought about it, Draco couldn't think of a single thing he'd ever done that could be counted as good.

He was a shit son, a shit friend, an all around shit person who deserved his shit life, and he needed to remind himself of these facts everyday.

His fingers brushed the wand in his pocket and Mr Ollivander's tear filled blue eyes filled his mind again.

"SHIT!" he yelled, spinning on the spot.

A witch hissed at him as her wares went flying but he left her to forage for them as he strode back into Diagon Alley and toward the ministry, looking every bit the haughty pureblood he was with his cloak fluttering behind him.

Ignoring the disdainful stares from employees as he strode proudly across the atrium, Draco dropped his new wand into the welcome witches hand.

"I'm here to see Kingsley Shacklebolt," he sneered.

The bored welcome witch dropped his wand onto the scales.

"Ten and a half inches, The Tree, core of life," she read blandly, giving him his wand and a name tag back in dismissal.

The Wizard behind Draco shoved him aside before Draco could ask for clarification on his wand wood and core, and Draco decided it was best to shelf the new information till later, lest he feel inclined to curse he smug bastard and end up on house arrest again.

Stares followed him to the elevator and it was curiously silent amongst the people inside while the lift dropped swiftly downward. No one dared say anything in such close quarters, but some threw him glares over their shoulders as they left.

"Department of Ministry Authorities," the cheerful voice declared and Draco stepped off, knowing exactly where the new Minister of Magic's office was. It was where he had stormed after his mother had be convicted, and where her freedom had been denied in exchange for his going to Azkaban instead. It's where he had managed to secure monthly visits to her instead.

He tried to push past the Minister's receptionist but the old hag was prepared for him this time, tutting smugly as her wards threw him back onto his ass.

"Do you have an appointment?" she asked, filing her nails with a penciled eyebrow raised at him.

Draco sneered and got to his feet. "I don't have time for this Gladys, let me past."

"What could be so important that you can't leave it for another day, death eater."

"Ex - death eater and it's none of your fucking business!"

She glared at him. "No seeing the minister without an appointment."

"Well then, maybe I'll just wait here until he comes out," he mocked.

He seated himself on one of the ugly burnt-orange chairs directly across from her so that she couldn't relax without seeing him, and set out to wait.

Gladys did reasonably well ignoring Draco to begin with. She did her afternoon paperwork, dealt with any memos that came soaring in, her nails were looking shiny and smooth, and she spent a half hour gossiping with Irene from the archives. She couldn't believe Ivan from floor seven was taking Anne to the muggle opera!

But she was aware of Draco's cold unwavering gaze and every moment she had spare she'd throw him a scolding look, that was returned with an edge of impatience.

Around four in the afternoon it was getting to be a bit much to bare. Why wouldn't the man leave! She could feel herself getting flustered and fidgeting under his gaze. Finally she threw down her nail file and marched into Kingsley's office. He was due back from a meeting any moment.

The fireplace flared alive as soon as the door clicked closed. The tall figure of Kingsley, followed by young Hermione Granger, muggle relations expert, and two senior aurors stepped out into the little space. Gladys waited as the minister thanked them for coming with him to see the muggle prime minister, and wished them a good day.

Kingsley turned to his receptionist with a warm smile. "Anything interesting happen while I was away?"

Gladys gave an exaggerated sigh. "You'll never believe who's outside."

Draco had waited patiently. More so for his wand, and now for Shacklebolt, and while he knew he looked calm on the outside, inside his mind was beginning to rage. He was trying to do the right bloody thing, but as they say, no good deed goes unpunished. The blasted receptionist kept him waiting hours.

When she had finally slipped into the minister's office, it was nearing the end of the day, and Draco knew that this was his last chance before the Minister floo'd home so he wouldn't get to see him at all.

He'd come back another day if he had to, but he'd rather get this over with.

Mind made up, he stood, stretching out his stiff limbs, and neared the door, expecting when it opened for Gladys to usher him inside, but instead coming face to face with Hermione Granger.

They both stopped, staring at each other a little wild eyed.

He gulped, resorting to his pureblood manners. "Granger," he stepped aside, letting her past.

"Malfoy," she replied.

He noticed she watched him carefully as she walked past, no doubt waiting for him to lash out. He smirked to himself. How fun it would be to rile up the minister's pet right outside his office.

But when she looked back at him, visions of her terrified eyes and the sounds of endless screaming filled his mind. He flinched away from her and she gave him one last curious look before leaving the room.

"Can we help you?"

Draco turned to see two aurors in their forties standing between him and the door. He didn't know their names so he just sneered at them.

"Move," he demanded. "I need to see the minister."

One of the aurors, a large man with a thick curled mustache, raised his bushy eyebrow at Draco. "I don't think so. We know who you are, Draco Malfoy."

"Good for you," he bit out. "I see you also know how to tie your shoes, congratulations on having intellect on par with a five year old."

The man chuckled. "As brash as a Gryffindor. You're not nearly as cold blooded as your father, Malfoy. Maybe Potter was right."

They stepped aside, leaving the room laughing, and Draco tried not to be offended. Did they think he wasn't dangerous?

A small voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he couldn't even kill an old man. He definitely wasn't dangerous.

Not good, not evil, not anything.

His thoughts were broken when Gladys pushed past him with a pout, and he met the amused gaze of Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Come in, Mr Malfoy."

Fucking finally.

* * *

AN: Hi guys :) I'm writing this on my phone at work, which is difficult to edit on, so I apologize for any mistakes, and also the occasional switch between New Zealand english ('our's) and American english (or's). E.g. favourite vs favorite. My phone autocorrects and it seems to change its mind about which it would like to use.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Hermione looked around at her room at Grimmald Place for the last time, having triple checked that she'd left nothing behind, and let herself utter a wistful sigh before spinning on her heel and shutting the door behind her.

Ron came through the door across the hall and they looked away from each other, Hermione feeling a tinge of sadness.

He held out his hand to carry her bag, and even though it held the entire contents of her life, she let him have it as one last moment moment between them. She led the way downstairs to the fireplace, where Harry waited for them.

The atmosphere in the room was one of awkwardness and silence, and she choked out a laugh.

"Come on you two, we're still friends, we just won't be living together," she assured them.

"Harry's still your friend," Ron mumbled.

She tried to smile at him. "We're still friends too Ron. We just need a little space to learn how to behave like them again."

Ron shrugged and Harry gave Hermione a reassuring smile.

"You're always welcome here," he hugged her.

"I know, thanks Harry. See you around at work."

Ron jerked away when she went to hug him, so she ended up dropping her arms lamely to her sides. He handed her her bag, mumbled goodbye, and left the room.

She couldn't help the tears filling her eyes. He acted like she'd been the one to dump him, but it was the otherway around. If anyone had the right to be bitter, it should be her. But she couldn't find the energy.

Harry patted her shoulder comfortingly. "He'll come around."

"Yeah," she agreed. "Well I better go if I want to unpack my apartment before work. See you Harry."

"See you Hermione."

She stepped into the green fire. "Granger residence."

Her mother was on the other side, ready to take Hermione into her arms. Hermione fell into them and cried.

Work that day was tough. Hermione Granger prided herself on her professionalism but was constantly near tears. The shame only added difficulty to remaining tear free.

She kept to her desk, keen to avoid her boss, who was a complete prat. Good days, like when Kingsley needed her, where few and far between. Usually she acted as a go between for the misuse of magical artifacts department, reassuring muggles and then obliviating them. She didn't like to do it. She knew if she ever found out someone had removed part of her memory she'd be very angry, but she was good at the spell. She'd done a perfect job on her parents after all, and been able to restore their memories perfectly.

She justified her job by reminding herself that non muggle born wizards tended to be more brutal with their obliviations than her. Even in their postwar world, most wizards had little understandings of muggles, thinking them to be of lesser intelligence.

Hermione sat at her desk, shuffling her paperwork and watched her boss stalk past again. She shuddered at his predatory glare. Time was moving slowly, she was aching to go home and lodge herself in the safety of her mother's arms.

Hermione was wondering if she should have taken some time off when her boss paused at her desk.

"Mr Adler," she tried to greet politely. "How can I help you?"

The large sweaty man dropped a file onto her desk, scattering her neatly piled paperwork. "I need you to deal with this. Now."

She opened the file and scanned it. "Sir, this job will take hours. Perhaps it would be better suited to one of the night staff. My shift is almost over."

The man's face grew steadily redder. "Do your job or face a disciplinary hearing Granger," he barked. "Your fame means nothing here."

Hermione felt embarrassingly close to tears again, unable to find the mental strength to stand up for herself today. She knew there was no point in arguing. Taking a deep steadily breath, she nodded agreement and gathered her things.

Mr Adler's bulk towered over her till she left via the office floo. He'd no doubt be waiting for her when she returned. Why the man couldn't find something better to do than bully her she didn't know.

Unlike other people who were uneasy around her, Hermione knew Mr Adler didn't dislike her because she opposed pro-pureblood laws and the like. No, his hatred was because she had risen much quicker in the ministry than he had. But she knew that was because she worked hard and was good at her job, not because she was a member of the golden trio, so she tried not to let his jealousy get to her.

Exiting the fireplace into the Three Broomsticks, Hermione waved to Hannah and apparated away from the designated point, stumbling with a queasy stomach back into existence in a small village somewhere in Scotland.

She headed on foot toward the house in question, very familiar with it's location. It was home to the only wizarding family in the village, one with 6 children under the age of ten years old, all discovering their magic in great very public bursts, much to the horror and confusion of every muggle in the village.

She tapped on the door, and the harried mother opened, looking guiltily at Hermione.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Granger. I've been trying to keep them to the backyard you warded but the older children are so good at escaping."

Not in the mood for having to lecture tonight, "That's fine Mrs Sanders. Do you mind taking me to where it happened?"

The woman nodded and called into the house. "Pumpkin, watch the kids for ten!"

She lead Hermione to the village centre, where a fountain that used to be a weeping man statue was now morphed into a 50 foot dragon posed in a roar, facing off against four witches and wizards. Coloured water was streaming out of the wands and gushing out of the dragon's mouth.

Hermione gulped. "How many people have seen this?"

"Um," Mrs Sanders hesitated. "Probably, maybe, about... The whole village."

"Great," Hermione squeaked.

"I'm sorry Miss Granger, truly I am. I'll keep a better eye on them I promise."

Hermione nodded dumbly.

"So... I can go back home now?"

"Yes. Thank you for showing me Mrs Sanders. I'll deal with this."

Mrs Saunders flushed happily. "Thank you. Stop by after and I'll cook you some bacon."

The cheerful woman hurried home to her children, leaving Hermione facing the epic battle scene in front of her. It was fairly brilliant she had to admit, even if it was a headache to fix.

A few spells later, the original fountain was back in place, and Hermione magicked herself to look like a muggle police woman in her mid-30s.

Starting at one end of the village, she knocked on the first door, thankful that it was now later in the night, and most people would now be staying wherever they were situated, and not wandering around.

At each house, she told the person answering the door that the police were conducting and emergency investigation and she needed to question each member of the household for any information.

While most people didn't appreciate being woken, they did let her inside, and she was able to obliviate and move on, even the houses of people who lied to her about how many people where in the house. Thanks to spells she had learnt when Horcrux hunting, she easily detected extra presences in each house, usually just a loved one or child whose family member hadn't wanted to wake them. Except for one house where a man was hidden in a wardrobe, and spluttered saying he hadn't meant to hurt the girl. Disgusted, Hermione compelled the man to go to the police in the morning and confess everything.

Slowly the night passed by, many of the muggles telling her about the weird family down the street who they swore black and blue could do magic, and those wretched children, and don't even get them started on Timmy, the oldest one. Why just the other week they saw him make an orange fly right into his hand from clear across the street! Possessed most likely, needed a priest that boy did.

Hermione smiled, reassured them, and swiftly removed suspicious memories, leaving each person to sleep it off and wake up feeling refreshed and content.

It was nearing 6am when she finished the last house, just in time because the couple were about to leave for work. They left with no memory of Hermione, the fountain, and only the occasional odd memory of the boys down the lane. Their day was a very peaceful and not at all weird one.

With exhaustion on every feature, Hermione once again knocked on the door of the wizarding family's house, knowing Mrs Sanders would be up early to cook breakfast for her brood of unruly children. Hermione was welcomed inside and sat down with a plate of bacon and eggs, smiling gratefully at the woman.

"Boys!" Mrs Sanders yelled.

The thundering of many feet came pounding downstairs, five children, her husband, and a baby on her husband's hip. They all greeted Hermione enthusiastically and dug into their food.

Hermione couldn't help but smile, laughing at the way six year old matthew insisted he was big enough to serve himself, then promptly spilled eggs on his brother's lap.

It was almost worth the long night to breakfast with the cheerful family. She supposed this must have been what it was like when the Weasley's were young. In many ways it was still what they were like. She had often imagined having a family like this one of her own, a pile of lively redheaded boys.

Except now... she gulped, and decided to turn her thoughts in another direction.

"Mr and Mrs Sanders, thank you for breakfast. Might I have a word with Timmy before I leave?"

The other boys all oo'd at their brother, who flushed hotly and ducked under his fringe in shame. Mr Sanders patted Timmy reassuringly on the shoulder.

"Go on, son. Sanders face the consequences of their actions with bravery."

Timmy squared his shoulders, slid off his chair, and gave Hermione his most charming smile, one that reminded her eerily of Harry when he was trying to worm his way out of something.

"Nice try," she chuckled as he went to open his mouth. "Let's go and talk in the yard shall we?"

He sighed, and followed her out the back door, poking his tongue at his brothers on the way.

Hermione let the boy stew in silence for a bit and she double checked the wards to make sure no muggle could see or hear into the yard. That way it was a safe place for the boys to play. Everything was holding strong.

When she felt Timmy starting to fidget, she turned to him and they sat together on the deck, Hermione was enjoying the morning sun much more than could.

Finally he buckled. "You're gonna tell me off, I know it, but it wasn't me this time! It was Andy!"

"But it was you that stole oranges," she scolded gently. "Where do you think your brothers get that idea that it's okay to use magic?"

Timmy mumbled under his breath, then asked, "if I do it by myself, am I allowed?"

She shook her head. "Next year you'll be starting Hogwarts, and do you know what they do if you use magic outside of school?"

He shook his head.

"They expel you, and take your wand off you."

He gasped, but then thought very hard. "But I can make magic happen without a wand, I don't have one right now. I just have to want it very, very much!"

"But," Hermione argued, "if you do magic after you're expelled, or in front of muggles, the ministry arrests you and you get put in Azkaban."

Timmy looked at her in horror. They may have taken the Dementors away from Azkaban, but it was still a place of horror that wizard children were told about from a young age. Just the other day his mom had threatened him with it, but he didn't take it serious. It was a different story now that Miss Granger from the ministry told him.

"I need you to be a good example for your younger brothers," she told him. "That way you all complete your educations exposing magic to any muggles in your village and without me having to stay up all night long again," she smiled. "Your poor mother already runs ragged chasing after you rascals. We wouldn't want to make her sad by any of you getting arrested."

It was the mention of his mom that convinced Timmy for good. No boy could stand to see his mom truly upset.

"I'll be good," he promised. "Say, Miss Granger? What house were you in at Hogwarts?"

"Gryffindor," she told him.

"What house do you think I'll be in?"

"You're Gryffindor through and through, Timmy."

He laughed happily and ran inside to tell his brothers, Hermione following much more slowly.

Mrs Sanders caught up with her on the way out.

"Thank you so much, Miss Granger. What we were thinking having six boys I'll never know, but I love every one of them."

"They're good boys," Hermione agreed. "But Mrs Sanders, a mass obliviation like this is a huge ordeal, not one the ministry can take lightly. I've had a talk with Timmy and I hope he'll listen to me this time and be a good example for his siblings. If this happens again, I'm legally obligated to charge you and your husband for not doing your duty as magical parents." Hermione tried to tell her all of this in the softest tone possible. She didn't want to be harsh to such a lovely family, but she had obliviated 74 muggles, and for many of them it wasn't the first time. "Please consider moving away from the village, like we talked about," Hermione begged.

Mrs Sanders nodded glumly. "The boys love the muggle school here though, Miss Granger. I never was much good at school myself. I don't know that I'm cut out to homeschool them."

Hermione was sympathetic but she couldn't afford to show it. "No more magic in front of muggles."

Bidding the woman farewell, and feeling more down than ever, Hermione apparated back into muggle London, taking a phone booth into the ministry to avoid the bustle of The Leaky Cauldron at breakfast time.

She trod warily back, knowing she wouldn't be allowed to return home until her paperwork was done, and by then her next shift would have started.

Arriving at her department, Hermione was careful to tread quietly past Adler's office door, sure that as usual, he'd spent the night in his office just to hassle her when she arrived back. In her current mood, she'd rather delay the run in for as long as possible. If only he was as stupid as he appeared, then he wouldn't have had the ability to transform his chair into a bed.

Unfortunately, he'd had the foresight to set up a ward that in her tiredness she stepped through, alerting him to her presence.

Adler came barreling out of his office, puffing, hair mussed, and a button on his shirt undone.

"Granger," he barked. "Come into my office and report immediately."

She sighed and trooped in, noticing he hadn't taken the time to transform his office back yet. The unprofessional atmosphere made her uncomfortable.

Adler sat on the bed, the mattress heaving under his frame, and casually flicked his wand at the door, locking and silencing it.

Hermione bristled. "Sir, I'd feel more comfortable if we had this meeting out in the main office, or at least at a desk."

"The others are starting to arrive for work Granger, I'd rather punish privately for your appalling lack of discipline."

"Punish? Lack of discipline?" she took out her wand. "Mr Adler, this has gone above and beyond what I'm willing to tolerate in the work environment. I will be reporting you to Minister Shacklebolt, and yes, using every _ounce_ of my so called fame to make sure you never bully or harass any employees again."

With speed she didn't expect from the large man, he lunged across the room, knocked her wand out of her hand, and pinned her up against the wall.

With his hot breathe against her neck, he hissed into her ear. "When I'm through with you bitch, you won't even be able to say the word fame, let alone be recognised as a member of your idiot trio."

His long tongue lashed against her ear, invading it with hot, wet, precision, and Hermione went cold with the realisation that it wasn't just hatred he felt for her.

His erection pressing against her stomach, her wand out of her reach, Hermione struggled to keep the panic attack that was threatening to take over at bay. She couldn't stop the tears. The tears had been held back all day but this situation more than called for them and she felt no shame.

"You know Mr Adler," she said, fury in every word. "During the war I am supposedly famous for, I was held down and tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange."

"I don't care about your stupid stories," he tugged at her pencil skirt.

"You should," she hissed. "I couldn't escape then, so I damn well made sure I'd never be stuck in that situation again."

Thanking Merlin that Ron and Harry were aurors and had taught her some quick combat tricks, Hermione summoned to her core a ball of raw magic energy, then wandlessly flung it with all her might at Adler. He went flying across the room, crashing over the bed and into the far wall, knocked out cold. A small trickle of blood dripped down his head.

Hermione straightened her skirt and blouse then retrieved her wand. She flicked it at Adler, summoning his wand, tying him in a conjured rope, and then Hermione summoned her patronus.

"I need an Auror in the department of muggle relations immediately."

It didn't take her long to break the Adler's door wards. She was the smartest witch of her age afterall. She was just drawing out silver threads of memory evidence against Adler when Harry and Ron came barreling through the hall, followed closely by Martin, the curly moustached auror who had accompanied her to the muggle prime minister's office several days before.

"Hermione," Harry gasped out, "what's going on?"

She noticed Ron was hanging back and not meeting her eye, which she didn't blame him for. But she knew if he saw her memories that he'd likely blame himself for not being there to protect her, a completely ridiculous conclusion, but one he was prone to.

Hermione smiled reassuringly at Harry to calm him down, then handed her memories to Martin and gestured inside Adler's office.

"Mr Adler has been bullying me all year, and today attacked me. He's secured inside here. My evidence is in this vial. Please seek my permission before showing anyone other than you Mr Martin, and please inform Adler's successor that I quit."

Harry paled and took her hand. "Gods Hermione, are you okay?"

"I'll be fine Harry, I just need to go home and rest.

"Miss Granger," Martins said, "you shouldn't make any life changing decisions after a trauma. Go home, get some rest, and if you still feel the same about quitting in a week so be it."

Hermione knew she wouldn't change her mind, but, "very well," she conceded.

Martins cleared his throat. "Also, don't disappear. We'll need you to come in for questioning."

"So you can make sure I didn't assault a ministry official, I understand."

He had the grace to turn away then, and leave her to Harry and Ron.

They escorted to her floo network while Martins saw that Adler was seen by a healer and escorted to a questioning room. Harry kept close to her side, offering what comfort he could, and Ron walked a few steps behind them.

"Do you want me to come back with you for a while?" Harry asked her.

"That's fine, Harry. I'm just going to catch up on sleep. I'll owl you later."

They exchanged a hug. She turned to Ron then who stepped forward to hug her, then seemed to change his mind last minute and patted her awkwardly on the shoulder.

She smiled a half smile. "Thanks Ron."

She stepped into the green flames. "Granger residence."

Exiting the other side, Hermione was pulled straight into someone's arms so tightly that she didn't get much of a chance to regain her breathe.

"Mum!" she gasped. "Too tight!"

Her mother pushed her back to see her face, checking it with her hands, and holding her shoulders. "You didn't come back last night!" she scolded. "Your father and I were so worried and had no way to contact you. I thought your shift ended at six."

"Oh Mum," Hermione said. "I didn't think. It's been so long since I lived with you."

"Where were you?"

Hermione sighed. "I got sent out on a case last minute, it took all night."

"Does that happen often?"

"Not anymore Mum, I resigned this morning."

Helen Granger took a moment to really look at her daughter. She may have barely seen her daughter while she was becoming a young woman, and been made to forget Hermione for a year, but Helen Granger knew her daughter wasn't the kind to quit something without a good reason, and since Hermione felt so strongly about muggle wizard relations, something must have happened.

She pulled her daughter into the dining room and made her sit while she fetched her a cup of strong tea.

Hermione just wanted to sleep but knew that after the worry she caused her parents that this was the final hurdle before the comfort of her bed.

"Where's Dad?" she asked, as Helen fixed a cup of tea for herself.

"At the practise. We agreed I could afford to cancel this mornings appointments and wait for you."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said.

"It's alright dear, I know you'll remember if the situation arises again. Although I'd feel better if we had a way to contact you too."

"I'll figure something out after I wake up," Hermione smiled.

"Now," Helen said, "tell me why you decided to resign."

"It's been on my mind for a while," Hermione admitted. "But this morning... my boss..." her voice broke.

"Oh honey!"

"He attacked me," Hermione whispered.

"Hermione!" Her mother leapt off her chair and pulled her close.

"It's okay!" she reassured her mother. "I defended myself, nothing much happened."

"Nothing much!"

"He pinned me against the wall. It wasn't... pleasant."

She looked up at her Mum. "Mum," her voice broke. "Why did he do that to me?"

Her mother's eyes teared up in response. "Because he's a bad man, baby. A terrible man. He'll get what's coming to him."

Hermione clung to her mother, sobbing and nodding.

"I'm so sorry that happened to you baby, I'm so sorry."

"I just want to live a normal life for a bit. No more wars, no more... bad men."

"Take all the time you need. You don't leave this house until you want to, okay Hermione?"

Hermione hugged her Mum close. Thank Merlin she was home.

* * *

Home proceeded to get very boring very fast for Hermione. She oddly found herself thankful for the days she had to go into the ministry and give evidence against Adler simply because it was something to do.

Hermione knew that Adler's attack was the hypothetical straw that broke the camel's bacl. Years of stress, of loss, of fear and of death, of recently losing Ron, and almost a year of constant bullying by her so called superior, had worn her down like a rock on the beach that was constantly hit by waves.

But she knew herself. If she let herself be idle it would be become worse. So two weeks after Adler was convicted and sent to Azkaban for assault, Hermione sent out feelers amongst her connections to see if there were any jobs she might be suited for.

Kingsley wanted her back of course, as did many of the department heads in the ministry. She felt very flattered by the offers that poured in, but she wanted a job that was quieter for a while. Something with less people interaction, so she could recharge.

That also meant that she declined a job offer at Flourish and Blotts, even though she spent the entire night fantasizing about being amongst all those delicious books.

Hermione knew that whatever job she had, there would be some unavoidable interaction with people, but she gave herself the luxury of waiting for something that felt right, that felt safe, and spent all of her spare time researching and practising more wandless defensive spells.

It would be a while before she felt normal again.

Luck, or something like it, came her way one afternoon when she was wandering down Diagon Alley, a melting bubblegum ice cream in one hand, and a paper she had folded into a fan in the other. She'd decided to window shop at her leisure, and maybe catch up with Harry and Ginny for lunch. A gleaming charm bracelet caught her attention in the window and she paused to look at it. She wasn't normally one for gaudy jewellery but the red rubies set in silver hearts appealed to her inner gryffindor.

Peering through the glass at it, it took her a moment to see past the bracelet and reflection and into a pair of amused green eyes, sitting under two perfectly shaped eyebrows. The girl in question smiled and pointed to the shop door, where the two of them met.

"Greengrass," Hermione greeted.

"Oh please, Hermione, you know you can call me Daphne."

The two girls hugged, and Daphne threaded her arm through Hermione's. They strolled through the alley arm and arm.

"So what brings my favourite Slytherin out and about today?" Hermione joked.

"It's hardly a fair description when I'm the only Slytherin you like, now is it."

"I like others!" Hermione defended. "There was that one quiet guy in our Runes class, the tall skinny one?"

"Theo?"

"Yeah, he seemed nice."

"He didn't talk."

"Exactly."

Daphne laughed. "Oh how I have missed your refreshing humor to brighten my days amongst the drudge of pureblood aristocracy."

"Do you spend much of your time amongst such people these days?"

"Oh plenty," Daphne sighed, then she flashed her left hand in the sun.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped and grabbed her hand. "You're engaged!"

"I am," Daphne laughed. "Arranged, I'm afraid."

"Arranged! In this day and age!"

Daphne gave her an impatient look. "Don't pretend you haven't researched this before, Granger."

"Well still," Hermione bristled, "obviously I think you should be able to choose your own husband. I know who you want, but I have a feeling that if a betrothal between you two had taken place, the papers would be having a field day. So who'd you get lumped with?"

Daphne laughed. "I'm sutr he'd appreciate you talking about him that way."

"Someone sensitive then?"

"More like... with a temper."

"A temper," Hermione flicked through the list of pureblood unmarried men she knew of, taking out one's with death eater affiliations, and any ones too much younger than Daphne. That left her very few men, as most had death eater parents in Azkaban, and the Greengrasses had been decidedly neutral.

In fact it only left two, Zabini and...

"Flint," Hermione declared. "The angry quidditch captain?" Her lips quirked. "With the teeth?"

"The one and only," Daphne confirmed cheerfully. "We're to be wed in two months."

"Will you be alright?"

"Oh yes," said Daphne. "We pureblood woman know how to handle ourselves."

"But what about..."

"In two months that'll be over," Daphne said firmly. She smiled sadly at Hermione. "I have enjoyed the relations while they lasted. He could do something about it, but you know I've been more of a physical convenience than an emotional attachment."

Hermione scowled. "Bastard."

"He's not all bad. But enough of me, what are you doing around here on a weekday?"

The two girls strolled into Flourish and Blotts, and browsed books together while they talked.

Hermione thumbed a text called 'Magic and Martial Arts' thoughtfully. "I'm looking for a new job and I'm enjoying the sun."

Daphne almost dropped her book. "I thought you'd be in the ministry till you were old and grey."

"Me too, but I need a break."

"Well surely you can find something easily."

"I could, but..."

Hermione explained to Daphne her predicament, slowing down with interest as Daphne's expression brightened.

"What?" Hermione finally asked.

"I have just the thing, Hermione. I swear to you it's perfect."

"What is it?"

"It's a job bridging the gap between a muggle business and the wizard that owns it, but he has very little to do with it. A house elf would actually be your boss," Daphne explained.

"I'll take it!"

"Well you'll need to apply," Daphne laughed. "Wilkens is the elf's name. He has turned down 23 people already."

"Gods, he sounds amazing. Where has such a house elf come from? And what kind of wizard would let an elf run his business. Is Wilkens paid? I hope so. This is the kind of thing I've been trying to get magical folk to do for years," Hermione ranted. "Did you know house elves actually have a very high IQ? Think of all the amazing things they could do if they were freed."

"Slow down, honey," Daphne interrupted. "Wilkens isn't free, because he doesn't want to be, and he isn't paid for the same reason. But within the business he is boss and he likes it that way. Even his owner is subject to Wilkens' direction."

"Well it's a start," Hermione admitted. "How do I apply?"

"I'll pass your name on darling. They'll get in contact with you."

Hermione sighed happily and hugged Daphne. "Thank you."

* * *

Again, sorry for mistakes :) It's tough editing on a phone :)


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